


Misuse of Essential Supplies

by ZaliaChimera



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Angst, Bondage, Comfort, Dream Sex, Embarrassment, F/M, Friendship, Gunplay, Hugs, Insecurity, Introspection, Male-Female Friendship, Sam Yao feels, Sexual Fantasy, Sharing a Bed, Wet Dream, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:38:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, well, quite often these days, Sam's brain hates him. Really hates him. Thankfully he's never alone in the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misuse of Essential Supplies

**Author's Note:**

> So, this fic was initially intended to be pure silly crack. And then, as is possibly inevitable with things involving Sam, it developed feels.

“Isn't this what you want, Mr. Yao?” Janine's voice is sultry in a way he's never even imagined Janine could sound. It sends a shiver down his spine, goosebumps up his arms. “You're always acting out, pushing against every little thing.” She leans over him, one hand trailing down his naked chest. He tugs on the zip ties holding his wrists bound to the heavy iron bed frame, breath coming in sharp pants. “You were just waiting for someone to ah... show you a firm hand.”

And she does. Show him, that is. Or demonstrates is probably more accurate. Wraps her hand 'round his dick and does this _twist_ thing that makes him buck up into it, all but begging for more. “God, Janine...” He can't hold back the gasped words, and licks away the sweat on his lips.

She laughs, a full-bodied sound and then, oh god, oh _god_ , she's straddling him, legs on either side of his hips, pinning him down while her hands rake down his bound arms, coming to rest on his shoulders. She moves in close, lips almost touching and he can feel her breath. Warm, it's so warm. “See. I told you, you just needed a firm hand. If you're good then this could be a very... beneficial partnership.”

“Y-yeah,” Sam says, voice breathy and strained and his gaze flicks down to the curve of her breasts in the clean lines of a functional sports bra, pressed up against him. “Whatever you say.” He's fairly sure he'd agree to anything she wanted right now.

“Good,” she purrs, “we're getting somewhere already. I knew that you could be reasonable with the correct motivation.”

“That's me. Motivated,” he says and instantly cringes at the lameness of it. _Shut **up** , Sam, shutupshutupshutup_.

“Of course. _That_ has never been in doubt.”

She closes that last inch between them, pressing her lips to his in a kiss that leaves him breathless. She is _very_ good at it, coaxing his mouth open, tongue pressing inside and he thinks he moans. Uh, quite a bit actually.

His head drops back against the mattress when they part, his eyes closing as he just- just savours the moment, tongue flicking out against his lips.

He feels Janine shift above him, and then flinches as something cold presses against the hollow of his throat, a solid weight. Metal? Whatever it is, she uses it to tilt his chin back, and oh, _oh_ he recognises the shape of it. His eyes fly go wide in shock and fear and okay, maybe just a bit of arousal when he realises. Janine smirks and holds the gun up in front of his face. A heavy, black thing. Sam swallows thickly, hardly able to breathe.

“This,” Janine says, matter of fact as ever, “is a Glock 17. Standard British Military issue.”

“Oh _god_ ,” that should not be as hot as it is. He should be scared, freaked out and then she's dragging it down his chest, along the line of his breastbone, circling a peaked nipple until he _squirms_ , gasping and trembling beneath her. The zip ties dig into his wrists and he just doesn't _care_.

“9mm semi-automatic,” Janine continues, tapping the barrel lightly up along his neck until it rests, smooth and cool against his cheek, hard against the bone, “17 round capacity, high-strength nylon-polymer construction. It's very efficient.”

She says it like anyone else would say 'sexy' and he thinks he whimpers. Doesn't have much time to think about it though, not when the next thing he knows, the gun is brushing against his lips, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her fingers against his neck. 

He isn't sure what makes him do it, a moment of madness, but he parts his lips, catches the flare of heat in her eyes when he lets her slide the barrel of the gun into his mouth and he has no choice but to curl his tongue around it as she presses it further, almost to the back of his throat. “You can use that mouth for more than ridiculous attempts at humour then, Mr. Yao,” Janine says, smirking down at him as she starts to move the gun inside his mouth, withdrawing it almost completely before sliding it back, almost like... fucking him, she's fucking his mouth with her gun and his face would probably be burning up if all the blood in his body wasn't already much further south.

She leaves it resting against his lips for a moment, watching him as he flicks his tongue out to caress the barrel, leaving it slick with saliva, and she just smiles. There's something hungry in her gaze and it makes the breath catch in his throat. She runs it along the line of his jaw, leaving a trail of spit-dampness on his skin, and leans down to kiss him again. He can feel her moving against him, wriggling in a way that does terrible things to his arousal.

She sits back up, sliding her underwear the rest of the way off her legs and Sam just... just _stares_ , breath coming sharp, pulse pounding as his gaze rakes down over her body. He can't help it! She sits back, wraps her hand around him again and raises herself up and oh _fuck_ this is-

Sam Yao jerks awake sharply, all but drenched in sweat and painfully, _embarrassingly_ hard. He stares into the darkness of the little shack he calls home, trying to get his breathing back under control. 

What the _hell_ was that?

He scrubs a hand over his face and through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut except that doesn't help because he sees Janine and sodding hell, why does his brain hate him? Sure, he hasn't actually got laid since the apocalypse but lets be honest, he hadn't actually got laid a whole lot, or at all, before the apocalypse either.

He pushes himself up into a sitting position and _great_ , every movement makes the rough blankets rub against him through his boxers. He groans and kicks them off, the cool air for once a relief against his overheated skin. 

A flicker of the dream came back to him, the flex of his hands tensing against the zip ties. He lets out a little groan and rolls over, burying his face against the pillow. “Oh god, what is wrong with me?” 

He squirms a little, hand sliding down beneath the waistband of his boxers to wrap around his cock and he is so, so glad that he gets afforded a little privacy, staying close to the comms building in case he's needed. He gives himself a few quick strokes, rubbing up against his hand and all he can see is Janine leaning over him, touching him, making him feel so _good_.

No. he can't do this. He makes a frustrated noise and gives up, flopping over onto his back with a huff of annoyance. Can't even jerk off without... oh bloody hell why is this happening to him?

He lies there for a long time, horrifically awake and hard and _aching_ with it, alone in the darkness, and hates the whole world.

It's at least half an hour before he feels like he can move, like he isn't burning up. When he finally does, it's to pull on his clothes and boots before he heads out into the darkness of Abel Township.

Even Maxine has to sleep sometimes and he feels so guilty for bothering her, but he just... needs some company now. She sleeps in the hospital, in a little room just off the main ramshackle building and it's not the fist time Sam's shown up there in the middle of the night. Admittedly, that's usually because of nightmares and not... well...

She opens the door, looking as ruffled as she ever does, still half asleep and wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. She rubs here eyes, squinting as she looks at him. Sam gives a sheepish smile, awkward now that he's here. “Sam?”

“Hey. Uh...”

Her expression softens a little. “Couldn't sleep?”

“Uh, yeah. Something like that.”

She raises an eyebrow at that but smiles. “Come inside. I'm not sleeping so well myself.”

“Thanks.”

He follows her inside, the room that doubles as her office and quarters and personal lab all rolled into one. It's not exactly homely but probably as close as anywhere in Abel gets, even in the darkness. She switches on a small lamp and goes to perch on her desk chair, letting Sam sit on the edge of the bed.

“You want to talk about it?” she asks, and makes a motion like she's going to offer him tea. She probably would have, she'd be that kind of person he thinks, before the zoms.

He flushes a little, thinking back to that dream and then shaking his head. “No,” he says emphatically. “It's really... just no.”

It's obviously not enough to fool her. She's smart like that, kind of a genius really, and honestly, she makes Sam feel a lot like an awkward and hopelessly stupid teenager a lot of the time. But she's kind. He can count on that.

“It can be hard,” Maxine says, eyes downcast for a moment, “if you're used to being with someone.”

Sam chuckles, giving her a wry look. “I think you're giving me a bit too much credit there.”

She blinks and he watches understanding dawn and it's one of the most mortifying experiences of his life. “Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You wouldn't think it to hear the guys at uni talk,” he says dryly. “But I mean, most of them are dead now so...” As attempts to lighten the mood go, it falls flat but everyone's used to a little gallows humour by now. It's the people who don't laugh, they're the ones you have to watch out for.

“One thing that doesn't change, be it here or across the pond, college guys in a group are assholes. And also liars. I guarantee all of them were seriously exaggerating.”

“Oh that I'm sure of,” Sam replies, managing a smile. “I was one of them.” Dear god the stories he had made up just to try to fit in.

“Look, Sam, you're a young man in a high stress environment. Which you cope with admirably, I might add. If this is about what I think it is, then it's normal. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yeah well, once my brain starts listening, I'll attempt to start believing that. I mean,” he continues doggedly, voice cracking just a little, “it's weird, right? Like, we're in the middle of the zombie apocalypse and I'm suddenly having dreams that would make a tabloid journalist blush. It just- feels wrong. Thinking about romance and- and sex and stuff.” It was so... so _normal_ when normal has shifted so dramatically.

Maxine lets out a slow breath and moves to sit on the bed next to him, her shoulder brushing his. He's so pathetically grateful. “Sam,” she begins, then pauses, thinking over whatever she means to say. “Sam, everyone deals with stress differently. And in times like this, high adrenaline, frequently life threatening, the body goes back to basic survival instincts. Food, shelter and reproduction. It's probably one of the most normal reactions you could have.”

“Right.” He doesn't quite believe that but it sounds good. She's a doctor. She would know right? “God, you must think I'm the most ridiculous...”

“You're not,” she says quickly, giving him a small smile. “You should have seen what some of the med students got up to and that was just school, not the apocalypse.”

He chuckles softly. “You'll have to tell me the stories sometime.”

“Whenever you want.”

He's silent for a long moment and then sighs. “Thanks Maxine. And sorry. For, waking you up I mean. I know- you get little enough sleep as it is.”

“I wasn't doing much sleeping. It's been hard since... well...” 

“Yeah. Yeah, it has.”

They lapse into an awkward silence, because Sam... he really doesn't want to leave and can't think how to get himself out without it being awkward and that just makes it _more_ awkward and finally he just drops his head into his hands and groans. “I'm so so sorry,” he says, chancing a glance up at her with an apologetic smile.

“It's alright Sam,” Maxine says, squeezing his shoulder gently. He leans into the touch and that- that's so rare now, y'know? Touching. Like, even just casual stuff, clapping shoulders and- and _hugs_ and it's not the sort of stuff you're supposed to admit as a guy but... he misses it. You just kind of... get so paranoid about it, getting bitten, that even when you're as safe as it's possible to get, you stay away.

Maybe it's no wonder he's having dreams where it's everything.

And then Maxine's arm slides around him, a real hug and it should be awkward but it feels too good to let that get in the way and he sort of _clings_ to her for longer than he probably should. “Will you be okay?” Maxine asks after a moment.

He gives a short nod, feeling a little more comfortable in his own skin for now. “Yeah. I think so. Yeah. I'll just... head back.”

She's silent for a moment. “You can stay, if you need to.”

 _That_ makes his face heat up, bright and obvious even in the dim lighting and he gives a soft laugh. He likes her smile when it's like that; small and wry and understanding. “And give the Runner rumour mill something to get their teeth into? I don't know if that's a good idea.”

“You're their voice in the dark, Sam. They might tease you but I'm pretty sure none of them would begrudge you just sharing a bed with someone every so often. And that's all it is,” she adds, her smile widening a little.

He nods hastily. “Of course! I didn't... that's all I thought it was.” He wouldn't even- a lady like Maxine, god, he wouldn't even know where to begin!

She gives a soft laugh at that. “I know you did, Sam. Offer's still open, if you want. Although the bed is a little cramped for two.”

He hesitates for a moment because he should probably go back to his own bed but the promise of it, of just- just _not_ being alone... “Are you sure?”

“Wouldn't have offered if I wasn't,” Maxine says.

She stands up, and Sam follows her, and he watches, arms folded over his chest, as she pulls back the covers and crawls in, squishing right up to the wall so Sam has room to crawl in next to her. It _is_ cramped, no getting around that, and the blankets don't quite cover them both. They lay back to back and it's about the least sexual thing two people can do in a bed which is good. But it's nice, and the warmth there makes up for where his knees are kind of exposed.

“Can you switch out the light?” Maxine asks, sounding half asleep already.

“Mmm, sure,” Sam replies, reaching out to turn it off and plunging the room into darkness. “Night, Maxine.”

“Goodnight.”

He lays awake for a while, listening as her breathing evens out, huddled up in a pitiful little shack in the middle of nowhere, and thinks that maybe things might just be normal.


End file.
